


Her Looming Shadow Grows

by agent_provocateur



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 1800s, Alternate Universe - Human, Conspiracy, Debauchery, F/M, Fake Character Death, Falling In Love, Hedonism, Love/Hate, Murder, Mystery Stories, Mystic Falls Aristocracy, Period-Typical Sexism, Revenge, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:20:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8663848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_provocateur/pseuds/agent_provocateur
Summary: ''What doesn't kill me, might make me kill you.''Lady Elena Salvatore had been to her own grave once. She wished they had put a better picture of her, that angle just wasn't flattering enough. After a year of hiding in recluse monastery, she finally returns to Mystic Falls, impersonating as Katherine Pierce, a veiled lady. With a perfect plan in her sleeve, she is resolved to destroy her husband Damon Salvatore and kill him.An eye for an eye, as it is fair. This is story of her vengeance.





	1. Prologue

_~Vengeance is mine, I will repay~_

Damon was after her.

The morning was crisp, frost bit through thin layers of her flimsy dress. The sun hid behind murky clouds, as if knowing what will about to happen. As if not wanting to see the inevitable bloodbath. In the distance, she could hear the crunching of twigs under heavy hooves. The trees were thicker here so he had to be maneuvering his horse to get past them. It offered her some time.

Elena was running with everything she had, her mind finally clear after days of secretly spitting out medicine the doctors at the asylum poisoned her with. They thought she was crazy, insane, driven away with madness. They all did; family, friends, enemies. She couldn't tell the difference anymore. There were times when she thought so too. Those were dark months, lost in feverish delirium and ghosts in the shadows. They had convinced her; with all the tricks and lies. She let them cage her in asylum, away from the world. She let them isolate her, promising to release her when she gets better. What a sham. How naive had she been.

Her husband was trying to kill her, but she wasn't crazy.

The forest grew in thick masses of grey and golden brown, the chilly gust of winter lingering in the air. Distant lively brook could be heard and she knew she was close to the river. The air was getting razor fresh and her teeth ached.

''Elena!'' Damon had called out franticly and her heart stopped at the sound of his voice. ''Wait!''

Was it fear that struck her chest? A warm tear slid down her scraped cheek, the salt teasing the thin open wounds. Part of her wished to stop and surrender herself to him - she was just so tired - but it was impossible. It would mean instant death and Elena had every intention to stay alive.

Damon Salvatore was on a hunt for her head.

Her throat was burning, limbs aching with cruel exercise, but she couldn't stop now. Elena heard the cracking of the whip and loud neighing of the horse. He always abused the animal. Abused her and then caressed her. That was what he did. That was how they loved each other; with pain and tenderness. How did she ever let herself fall in love with him? How did she ever let herself believe he loved her too? A sob escaped her throat as she fell down on the floor covered in wet leaves, her palms scraping on the sharp rocks underneath. A river roared on the edge of the cliff, arctic and steely. Elena quickly got up, using last burst of effort she had, but it was too late. Eerie silence surrounded her.

There was a distinct sense of presence behind her. Hairs on her neck stood up, a bad omen announcing he was here. He had caught her. She slowly turned around, knowing the time had come for her to confront him. The moment had been building up for years, but she was too blind to see it. Love had made her blind. Lust had made her deaf. Before she could see his expression, wondering if he would finally reveal his hatred for her, Elena's face was viciously struck with a whip.

She saw nothing but a painful blinding light before losing consciousness and falling down into the freezing river. Her lifeless body floated down the wild stream, lost in the raging foam and angry waves.

* * *

 

_A year later_

Veiled lady stood under the colossal statue of a vengeful archangel, using protection of his enormous smooth wings. The marble masterpiece was beautiful in it's vindictive glory, the vicious look of Micheal sharply cutting into the menacing beast under his feet. She was dressed in black, which wasn't surprising for a visitor of a church graveyard. A wide elegant hat sat atop of her head, heavy lace draped over it, completely covering her face. The thick screen fell all down to her collarbone in that manner that nobody could figure out her identity, but was polite enough not to ask, supposing her to be a widow.

Which was exactly what the lady in question was aiming for.

She stood erect next to the statue of a merciless God's servant, warily watching the scene that unraveled in front of her narrowed eyes. Bit further away, a young man was standing in front of an elegant tombstone, the expensive stone still untouched by the hand of time. He stood unmoved, clad in finest gentleman outfit, staring at the black and white photograph of a girl with impassive look on his handsome face. Next to embedded frame of girl's picture was name Elena Salvatore. The date of her passing matched today's day.

It was her anniversary of death. Anniversary of her coldblooded slaughter.

Man's own eyes were dark, intensely burning into the image as if his gaze alone could evoke the dead to come forth. He had always been like this. He was always so cool and collected.

Did he love the girl on the picture? Did he try his best to save her? Or had he betrayed her and was the one that pushed her into the river, on this day, a year ago?

Lady clutched her gloved fists by her side, burning her scornful eyes into him. The scar that went from her temple to jaw like an elegant bow tingled at the recollection of that day. Of the day Elena Salvatore died. Of the day her husband killer her. She watched her killer calmly stand over her grave, turmoil brimming inside of her.

None of the former lovers did hear the small patter of feet, too engrossed in their own ache and memories. A mass of brown glossy curls mischievously jumped from the carriage, though she had been instructed to wait until father came back. Claire pranced between the big tombstones and scary statues, wondering if the marble eyes had shifted into her direction.

Spotting her father, she put on a bravado and quickly went up to him, throwing her small arms around his thighs because it was as far as they could reach. Damon easily picked up his daughter and kissed her cheek. He gently smoothed her tresses down and went back to carriage, without once looking back. Claire embraced his neck, staring at a picture on a grave over his shoulder. Claire hadn't lost the sight of the portrait, not even while father carried her back to the coach. Not even as they entered and horse rolled them away.

She hung on the window, straining her neck to watch, without blinking, until it finally diminished out of sight.

Lady watched this sight with hidden expression. After few minutes of standing under the heavy wings, staring at the disappearing carriage, she regained her breath and approached her own grave. There was a bouquet of fresh pink peonies under the epitaph. She dared not touch the petals. Her hands were trembling, hidden in the muff. She wished she could tell them Elena wasn't dead, but the truth needed to be uncovered first. Lady needed to find out who killed this poor girl and who destroyed her marriage. She needed to find out so she could bring Elena back to life and protect her loved ones from shadows that infested in their family.

From shadows that had been latching on to her for years, until they finally dared to come out into the light to kill her.

_**To be continued...** _


	2. Grove Hill

 

At Grove Hill, in the outskirts of Mystic Falls, Lady Elena Gilbert was the very visible hand that ruled the estate. Though she slept in the same grand mansion she was born in, was tutored by most expensive governess - Elena was raised by family of peasants serving there. She wore what was practical, ate together with the working people, attended the Sunday mass. Despite her young age of seventeen, she supervised their labor and nobody thought twice about it.

Despite the nobility differences with people there which she most certainly didn't care to notice, Elena breathed the fresh air, often dipped her small feet in river and thought herself free as a bird.

Today, Elena wore same simple breezy dress as Rebekah did. An apron was tied over it to keep from staining it and their arms were half deep in water. They leaned over long stony tub, sleeves rolled up to elbows, to do the laundry. Elena didn't have to do it, but in mother's diaries, she read that earning peasant's trust and favor was highly important. Those diaries were like a Bible. So she listened to the people and did everything to make living at Grove Hill a heaven. It was her legacy and she was ready to do everything to preserve it.

''There's your cousin James'' Rebekah whispered and nodded at the man on a chestnut steed. They warily watched him as he galloped haughtily past them. James was her distant cousin from late mother's side and a manager of the estate - not her favorite person. Elena soaped the white linen hard, gripping the board for support. James here was never a good thing. He abused the workers to his own fancy and liked to cause a havoc, only to impress his gentlemen friends.

Behind James, on a wild black stallion, rode a man she had never seen before. Elena was fairly familiar with all James' friends and kept her distance, too revolted to even associate with the debauchery. But there was something vicious about this man's focused gaze, a stark contrast to the spoiled countenance of Manhattan golden youth that often visited. He galloped through the babbling stream, something none of the gentlemen would dare to do in case they get their pristine coats dirty. Every eye was turned towards him, not knowing whether to be terrified or impressed.

''Who is that?'' she asked, trailing him with her gaze.

The man left the stream and stallion seemed to go out of control on solid earth. It pranced and jumped on front legs, stubborn in throwing off the rider. It was a dangerous, almost wild and rare breed of Tarpan, an animal on the verge of the extinction. Even mere feeding of that beast was a lethal errand. But the man was not to be trifled with. He laughed at the challenge and gripped the reins tightly, overcoming the troublesome horse. Gaining control, he urged it to jump over a high fallen branch on the ground. With great effort and elegance, the animal did it - but just barely. Had it been any weaker or tamer horse, it would have it's leg broken and rider would be flattened.

''What is he doing?'' demanded Elena, outraged by the abuse of the beautiful horse. She clutched her fists as the fool abused the horse, which was one of the prized few in their stables. The man, satisfied with his stunt, calmed the beast with a pat and his strikingly light eyes caught Elena's. Man glanced towards where James rode off and with a diabolical smirk on his face, he demounted. One of the servants was thrust with the reins, nervous grimace on their scared faces.

''Good morning'' the man, dressed in impeccable riding outfit, greeted cheerfully. He had a deep husky voice, it reminded her of rumbling of the damp earth in early dawns of May. His onyx hair was parted on the side and messy from the exercise. He pushed it back, trying to style it as it was.

Definitely a city boy.

''You reckless idiot'' Elena spat, somewhat disappointed by this revelation, vigorously scrubbed the linen in her grip and glared at him. ''It's legs could have been seriously hurt thanks to your idiocy!''

Man, for a second stupefied with absolute shock of a peasant girl speaking in such direct manner, quickly recovered and shrugged his shoulders in indifference, ''He's young, it'll do him good to roam about. Can I have some water?''

Instead of barking another remark as her fancy was, she bit her tongue. Elena smirked back and bowed, her voice changing to a smooth, almost delightful note. ''Certainly. Help yourself.''

He walked up to her, evidently pleased by pleasantries and an amiable welcome, and shamelessly eyed her figure. He had a look about him that suggested her succumbing to his charm was an expected thing. The self-possessed way of walking and talking suggested ladies fawning over him was an often occurrence. Elena had seen but too many of those men. The obnoxious rider came up so close that she was sure his lips would touch her cheeks, if only she moved head for smallest degree.

''Thank you'' he whispered, hot breath on her skin, and somehow those two completely ordinary words managed to sound sultry coming from his lips. Without previously asking for permission, man haughtily grabbed one of the glasses, previously used for soap, and filled it with water that came from small tap. ''Is it drinkable?''

''Pigs do it and they're all healthy'' she shrugged, relishing in his horrified, but handsome face. Rebekah snorted and women around them hid their smiles in shoulders. They knew better than to provoke gentlemen.

''Are you always this pleasant?'' he asked with roll of the eyes as he set the untouched glass down and propped a hand on the tub. It was obvious he didn't appreciate her mockery. His figure towered over her, clouding the sun. There was an intriguing scent oozing from him; smell of cigars and cologne.

''Only with gentlemen from the town'' Elena replied with a cheeky smile, squeezing out the excess of the water from a wet sheet on his fingers, breaking his grip on the tub.

''No wonder there aren't many of them here'' he muttered in dismay, flinching back and waving his hand around to dry it.

''A reason more to love the country'' she breezily said, looking away from him to let him know she was done chatting. Elena turned back to washing, completely ignoring his leering look. Peasant girls around them watched the conversation with wide eyes; some aghast, some amused.

''Wait'' man suddenly spoke up gravely, his eyes narrowed, staring horrified at the exposed skin just under her ear. ''You have something on your neck.''

''What?'' Elena exclaimed flustered, dropping down the soapy linen into the water and brushing sides of her neck with sense of panic. There were few things on Earth Elena was deathly frightened and hairy insects were among them.

''Stop'' he repeated more firmly, closing the distance between them. ''Don't move. It's crawling over you.''

She thought she saw him flash a smile before he brought his flaming lips on her cold bare shoulder. The touch felt much like a lightning bolt hitting the tree and splitting it in half. A violent tremor passed through her body and she pushed him away, livid and unsettled. ''Don't touch me!''

''It's gone now'' he winked mischievously. ''You're welcome.''

''Damon!'' James called out as he rode back, beckoning for him to come and interrupting whatever they had going on.

Damon, apparently that was his name, mounted his untamed stallion and rode away, but not before bestowing another smirking glance towards Elena. Somehow, she was sure they would meet again. Actually, part of her hoped they would. Why was her heart racing?

''Elena!'' one of the boys came rushing towards them after the riders were gone, barefoot and agitated. ''Peggy has fainted!''

''Fainted?'' she blinked and gasped in shock, momentarily shaking out the spell Damon put her under. Peggy was a 9 year old girl, daughter of one of the farmers. She wiped her hands on the apron and quickly followed the boy.

* * *

''It's what I've been dreading'' doctor declared, twisting one end of his gray mustache in gloomy contemplation. ''It's malaria. It can be lethal, unless we start the treatment with quinine.''

''Is the sickness to spread?'' inquired Matt somberly, rubbing his chin.

''Very likely. I'll have to examine everyone that was at the swamp-''

''How do we get the quinine?'' interrupted Elena, anxiously glancing towards lying form of Peggy. There was strange pallor over her skin, beads of sweat gliding down the temples. She looked like a ghost. Elena couldn't fathom anything happening to this poor little girl. Peggy was too young to die. Peggy was _her_ responsibility.

''I'll give her some, but more will be necessary.'' Doctor took off his monocle and wiped it off his silken handkerchief, not looking anyone in the eye. ''Alas, it's very expensive.''

Elena and Matt exchanged glances. The unanswered meaning was bright as daylight. If they didn't get the money soon, Peggy and the rest of people catching the disease would die. No matter how in charge did the peasants think Elena to be, the wages and the administrative management were handled by only one person.

''I need your help'' she declared later on, coming to the stables directly after quitting Peggy's chambers. It took a lot of effort to swallow down her pride and come beg money from one person that was able to give it and one person that was least likely to oblige.

''Forget it'' James dismissed her immediately, fumbling with the saddle of the horse he rode that morning. He was familiar with the situation at hand, completely undisturbed by anything except the quality of his dinner.

''I don't want your sympathy'' she played the only card she knew her cousin would listen. That card was money. ''But be smart for a change. Epidemic could hurt our estate.''

''For whatever it's producing already?'' he snorted, obviously not caring if it all went to ruin.

''Our income would be higher if you'd only listen to my advice'' she argued, crossing her arms. Why did he have to be this insufferable? There were dozens of great ideas, many of them belonging to her late mother, on how to improve the estate. They could employ more people, offer them wages and save them from poverty. Kids would be able to go to school, people would be able to settle down and it would change everyone's lives. James obviously didn't feel the same way. He let the estate flow without any stimulants, taking the whole management lightly. As long as there were horses to rides, pheasants to shoot - he didn't care.

James sighed in annoyance, approaching her and taking off his gloves. ''Your father entrusted the estate to _me_. Not you.''

The sentence, no matter how true - hurt. Her mother died while giving birth to her here and her father left the estate without second glance. James lived with him and his own mother in Mystic Falls, just few hours away on horse from here. Still, despite proximity, John Gilbert never came to Grove Hill again. He chose James, son of one of James' deceased cousin's, over his own daughter. Count Gilbert let James lead the estate and live with him.

 _Why_? Was it because she was a girl?

Elena could feel her eyes stinging, but refused to give in to crying. She was never one to weep or moan about. With desperation laced in voice, she took her last chance of help and pleaded, ''Can you at least carry out what I said now to him?''

Her cousin chuckled snidely, ''If he cared what you have to say, don't you think he'd be here to listen?''

She forgot how cruel he was. She forgot he had no soul. The words shot her like a bullet and she clutched her fists, breathing heavily, staring at his sneering face. After a moment of heavy tremors that assaulted her, Elena turned around and left without another word. Barely a minute later, walked in Damon, holding the black stallion by it's reins.

''A magnificent animal'' he exclaimed, completely oblivious to everything, petting the beast that seemed to melt under his touch. ''Magnificent, no doubt. Contrary to what you told me, I had no trouble riding it. And the estate...'' he secured the animal to it's place and turned around, his eyes bright. ''You have my compliments, Rhodes.''

''I thought you hated the country'' inquired James suspiciously, his head cocked. ''And me, for that matter.''

''How wouldn't I? Is it possible not to hate you?'' answered Damon, flashing his companion very well feigned surprised look. ''You're the talk of Mystic Falls these days. Your intelligence, charisma, court success.'' He patted the lapels of the startled James, who did not even realize he was being joked with. ''Your _elegance_.''

''Envy really is the sincerest way of admiration'' simpered James, feeling high with the flattery.

''Indeed, but you need not mine'' added Damon seriously. ''Now why don't you tell me the real reason behind this invitation.''

James cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. He was meant to woo this guy with country charm, feed him, get him drunk and then take advantage of his good intoxicated mood. They only got here and Damon Salvatore already saw through transparent gestures. ''I heard Lady Lockwood, wife of rail road engineer is your... dear friend. Is it true?''

Damon smirked in amusement. Words traveled fast in Mystic Falls. A good friend was just another word for mistress and lately, Damon rarely boasted of his conquests. For two simple reasons; there were too many of them to be called conquests and the game was getting easier to play. He was quickly growing bored of the Mystic Falls.

''You want Lockwood to buy your estate'' he predicted with an arched eyebrow. ''For the rail road.''

''It's perfect for it'' hurriedly explained James, losing his well-practiced cool. ''Just imagine, the estate is practically gold mine for railroads; vast, but useless. The only trouble might be the river, but we could build a bridge-''

Damon waved him off in dismissal, not caring about it in the slightest. ''You need to butter up Mr. Lockwood, it's giving _me_ a headache. Now, in this case, most precious thing I can offer you is solely friendly advice.''

''How precious?'' gingerly asked James, growing anxious at the devilish smirk Damon sported. That smirk was never a good thing.

''I have small debt of 3000 dollars'' Damon shrugged, as if the debt was anything but outrageously substantial. He was raised in rich family and used to spending more money than he had. Recently, his father got tired of it and threatened to disinherit him - under one condition. Damon's pocketbook was getting thinner and was forced to begin considering father's proposal.

''Women or cards?''

''Is there a difference, really?'' he drawled in boredom, putting his whip under arm and slapping James on the shoulder with the other. ''Excuse me my good friend, country is nice, but I do find unsaddling the horse most tedious of the chores. Be so kind as to do it for me.' I have a date with cigar and glass of scotch.'

With that, he grinned and left dumbfounded James Rhodes to wonder what kind of devil made him strike a deal with Damon Salvatore.

That night, Elena sneaked to the parlor of Grove Hill. Shutters were drawn and white sheets were like ghosts in the haunting room. Any lady, or gentlemen too for that matter, would pale at the sight and run out of the cursed room screaming. Every piece of furniture was covered with white dusty sheet, hiding the memories of long forgotten past. Wind howled outside, banging on the shutters in rage. Major number of chambers of Gilbert mansion were in the same fashion, since nobody had any use of them. In case of guests, lower ground rooms and fireplaces were always on stand by.

Unfazed by ghastly scene, she crept up to the stylish cupboard, stealthily removed the cover and grabbed few pieces of silverware. They were her mother's, left to her by her own mother.

''She would have done the same'' she murmured, resolutely looking at the beautiful carved platters, goblets and cups. Nostalgia tugged at her heart, wishing she had met the lady that owned them, her grandmother she heard so much about but never met.

But as the fates would have it, people she loved dearly were nothing but ghosts, someone else's memories, and Elena often felt alone on this planet.

Without second glance, she hastily stuffed them in a bag. Mother's legacy wasn't expensive china, vast estate or bred horses - it was the people. In the morning, quinine was bought. Nobody knew where the money came from and, too busy with joy of Peggy's recovery, nobody remembered to ask.

* * *

''What is that?'' curiously asked Peggy, pointing at the small podium with 10 feet wooden pole in the middle. The pole had 4 separate hooks on the top, each one pointing at the cardinal direction. Preparations for spring festival were nearly finished. Everyone was bustling about, preparing refreshments, music, and activities. ''What is it that they place there?''

Elena looked down at this bright girl, admiring her vigor and strength. It took a month to regain health, but Peggy did it. Everyone else who caught malaria was cured too and there was enough medicine to distribute to everyone. Mother's silverware came to good use. Elena stroked her small head affectionately and answered, ''They put prizes up there.''

It has been a month since James and his friend left the Grove Hill, without a goodbye. They just vanished one day after breakfast, leaving their lamb half-uneaten and cigars still smoking in the ashtrays. They were impulsive, spontaneous and reckless, and smallest part of Elena envied them on their freedom.

''Who gets them?'' Peggy pulled her out of strange train of thoughts, tugging on hem of her dress with free hand.

''Prizes are for whoever is brave enough to reach the top.''

Little girl let go of her hand and ran up to the small table with several different bouquets of flowers, all plucked out of Grove Hill gardens. ''And this?''

''This is the most prized reward'' explained Elena, taking one pale pink peony and breathing in it's rich scent. Peasant woman who sat at the table twisted buds of the flowers into one exquisite wreath. She shared a smile with Peggy, tucking a small rose into her auburn ringlets. ''Young man that manages to take it off will give it to the girl he thinks is the prettiest.''

At that moment, Matt came rushing into the court, dressed in his usual peasant attire; shoes muddy and forehead sweaty. He stopped in front of them, trying to regain his breath, leaning on her shoulder. Having known each other entire life, he was always relaxed in her company despite his significantly lower rank.

''What happened?'' Elena asked, looking worriedly at his panic-stricken face. ''Are you well?''

''I thought you should know'' he rasped, shaking his head in disbelief. ''You father is here.''

Elena was struck speechless and that has rarely ever happened before. Her father was here... Count Gilbert was here... After seventeen years of absence. She recollected her senses and with a grin on her face dashed towards the said location, making Matt almost lose his balance and topple down on the floor.

''Are you going to see him?'' he straightened and caught up with her, his face set in disapproval. Why was he so sullen all of a sudden? Her father was here and it was a day to rejoice!

''Yes,'' she responded, barely managing to cover up her impatience. She'd been waiting _seventeen_ years for this to happen, to meet him, a man of great reputation. ''This is a chance to tell him about malaria - and everything!''

This was a chance to win his heart and embrace him, something she was dying to do since childhood. This was the chance to impress him with the effort she put into mother's legacy and maybe coerce him to come and stay here. Matt followed her through fields and meadows, still sporting that grim look on his face. Finally, they spotted a stylish carriage on one of gravel walks. Horses were dressed in black attire, gold fabric covering their ears and lower bottom of legs. They were majestic, so proud, so _still -_ very much unlike restless horses here.

James stood between two unknown men, both seeming to be gentleman. Small dose of disappointment filled her as she saw nobody else was there, but it was quickly overshadowed by elation as the man turned to face her. Elena couldn't help but to gawk as his light hair which was so different from her brown one. But color of his eyes was identical to her own and she found courage in it.

They told her father was noble, but nothing could prepare her for it.

Leaving Matt behind, she daringly approached the group, from all the excitement not even remembering to bow or court. ''Excuse me.''

Only small parting of man's lips proved there was any effect on his stoic countenance. Uncomfortable silence ensued as they all gazed at her with scowl on their faces, as if she just interrupted something important.

''I'm Elena'' she remembered to bow, small blush on her cheeks at the stupid mistake.

Exchanging glance with James, father pursed his lips and sternly declared ''Gentlemen, leave us be.''

His father didn't have a caring voice, she noticed. It was hard and sharp.

''What is it that you want?'' demanded John after men were very well out of hearing shot. One look at Elena's country attire and his upper lip curled in vivid abhorrence. There was no warm welcome, no warm reconciliation. Count Gilbert impatiently drummed his fingers against silver head of the stylish cane, taking an unconscious step back, obviously eager to cut this conversation short.

Her father didn't want to be here.

Elena cleared her throat and pushed the heart-breaking disappointment aside, steeling herself for more pressing matters. Chance to help the estate and farmers couldn't be let go. Count Gilbert, the ultimate owner was here and he will have to hear her out.

Would mother not be impressed by that? Would she not applaud the effort?

''River keeps flooding and swam is causing malaria'' she started, her throat strangely parched. ''There is a risk of epidemics-''

John raised her hand to cut her off, huffing in annoyance ''I've charged your cousin with the estate. Speak to him.''

''This estate needs _you_ '' she pressed on, quite put off by the outcome of the conversation. She thought her father would be kind. She thought her father would find some compassion. James refused to do anything to help, this was the only alternate way. But the man clearly didn't want to have anything to do with mother's legacy. Why?

''Not anymore'' countered John, his eyebrow arched. ''I've decided to sell it. New owners will remove everything, there won't be any crops. Only coal storages.''

Count John Gilbert was like a cold iron.

''Don't sell it'' Elena urged desperately, struck with the sudden news. Her mother's legacy... sold? Shoved into strangers hands? Knots in her stomach twisted and she felt sick at the thought of losing the only thing that connected her to mother.

''And why ever not?''

''Everyone would lose their jobs'' she struggled to overcome the confusion, the shock, the slow rumblings of hysteria. This was her home, for goodness sake. Not just hers, but home of dozens of people that worked here, earned their bread and shelter. So many people depended on Grove Hill, how could he not see that? Where would people go? Where would _she_ go?

''It happens'' John said scoffing and tapping the ground with the cane.

''My mother would never let this happen'' Elena grit through her teeth, eyes flashing with fire. She loved Grove Hill, it was evident from every word laborers uttered to her and every line of late Countess Gilbert diaries that were scattered in old office. How could he not care about something his wife loved? Had he forgotten her? Did he ever even love Isobel?

Her father was put off for a millisecond by the remark. He staggered back, but upon a moment reflection, drew up close to Elena's face and whispered forcefully, ''You know nothing. You've never even met her.''

It sounded like an insult and Elena took a deep breath to calm herself. The grief that she would never get to meet her mother was all-consuming, but when she read her handwriting, lighted by the flickering candle in the dead of the night, it felt like she was talking to her. When she helped out at Grove Hill, it felt like she was there with her. When peasants told her she had Countess Gilbert's eyes, it felt like she knew her her whole life. It made the grief go away. 

''I've read all of her journals'' his daughter proudly elaborated, cheeks flush with the animation.

''People here miss her greatly'' she grit through her teeth, struggling to keep her chin raised because at this moment the world was crashing down. This was betrayal of the worst kind. ''Because she had been a perfect lady. I can't even fathom how could she spend her life with such a person as yourself. You're a monster.''

At those words, John raised his gloved hand and struck her daughter's cheek, hard. The slap echoed, loud and obtrusive in it's violence. The Count was livid and outraged, his words venomous, ''Show some respect! I'm your father!''

Gentlemen didn't even pretend to look away, James personally basked in this spectacle.

''No'' Elena said calmly, though her eyes were stinging with unwelcome tears. At that dreadful moment, Elena realized her father hated Grove Hill as much as she hated his own daughter. If only mother was alive, she'd never let something like this happen. She raised her chin and contemptuously puffed out chest, challenging even the gods to climb down from Olympus and strike her themselves if they dared. ''No, you aren't. I'm actually glad you're selling the estate. That way every connection I have to you will be severed.''


End file.
